OOM

[redintheledger]

Moscow, USSR, 1948

"How do I turn them on?
Please, how do I turn them off?"


warning: violence, mild body-horror

(no subject)

[dont_feel_it]

The third time he closed his front door and opened it to find the bar stubbornly existing between him and morning (Bronco, pick up breakfast and coffee because Parker's got no idea which places to hit or which folks behind what counters respond best to flattery and which would rather save the small talk and he's sick of getting stale pastries and the last dregs of an old pot of coffee), he accepts the inevitable and goes in, but there's nothing that says he needs to stay inside, once he's gone to the bar and picked up a paper cup of medium roast. Outside, it's almost as crisp as Haven's mornings, and the grass wets the toes of his boots as he heads down to the little beach, folds up lanky legs to sit in the sand and consider the water.

There's something unsettling about there only being one little while boat bobbing in the blue water out here. Part of Nathan twitches to find a harbor master, improve the nonexistent mooring line (especially if whoever owns it plans to keep her in through late fall), check on how the thing gets launched or taken out each season without a ramp.

But the larger part is simply soothed by the sight of a little white boat, bobbing in blue water. It's one familiar thing in a world that has gone unequivocally bonkers.

The coffee he's got cradled in his hands helps, too.

Jessica Drew - Main Bar

[justdyedit]

[OOC: Milli-timed to the day the age spell broke.]

Jess had been outside investigating the various spiders to be found (she was quite sure she came across a nice specimen of Steatoda nobilis) when the spell that had regressed everyone's age broke. Given she was wearing children's clothes when it happened, she was quite happy to have found a horse blanket to borrow so she could make her way to her new room without breaking any of the Bar's rules.

Properly dressed, and aged, she's feeling better than she expected. Parts of her psyche that have been broken for years don't feel as sharp anymore and she can almost smile at certain memories…at least what memories she can see. Which is why she is glad she never venom blasted either pony responsible for the spell and why she is now at the bar.

"Can I leave a gift? Anonymously, I mean." Pause for a napkin read. "Of course it won't cause harm. Just give Twilight and that other pony, Trixie wasn't it? Just give them some treat, like a cake or whatever is good for them. One each and put it on my tab. Don't say who is from though, just thank them or something. And don't make it weird or sappy."

"What's this?" She then asks as an invoke appears for the damage to a certain soda machine. "But I wasn't in control of my facilities!" Another napkin. "I was a kid." Another napkin. "Fine. I'll pay up. Give me a mocha and some biscotti first."

Business taken care of, she settles in with her smartphone, scrolling through some costume redesigns* she found online back home. Carol shouldn't get all the fun of a new costume after all.

[OOC: *link leads to an entry with a list of fanmade costume redesigns for Jess. All are linked cause I didn't want to tie up this with graphics or too many links.]

(no subject)

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Icon to the contrary, there is neither a helmet nor a fiery backfield of explosions to be seen when Ellen steps through the door. Armor, yes, and a rifle, yes, but it's just her usual patrol wear, and since she had already gotten through the gates of Megaton she felt it was pretty safe to take the helmet off. (No matter how advanced power armor technology gets, no one- War Department, Brotherhood, or Enclave- has ever figured out how to scratch one's nose while wearing a properly sealed power helmet.)

"Bar?" she says. "I have a message here for Mr. Javert. Could you get it to him for me when you have the chance?"

The envelope she places on the bartop disappears.

"Thank you," Ellen says. "Now if I could have- I don't know, fried chicken, I guess, Earl said it was good- and something for my dog..."

It's been a longish day and she could use lunch. Bar gives her enough lunch for two as well as a bowl for Dogmeat, so if you feel like bothering her, go right ahead.

(no subject)

[neverbelievedintheend]

Today, there were bureaucrats. And very ugly budget numbers.

They're really hell-bent on that damned useless Wall of theirs.

Pentecost doesn't even get exasperated when the Bar shows up instead of his quarters, or when the napkin appears in front of him. He does, however, stop dead in his tracks as he surveys the nearest available shelves. "I don't remember authorizing this," he notes as he takes the bottle down.

Specials

Drinks with rum in them 50% off

Happy hour is on, folks.



(OOC: the scheduled mun asked for a substitute, so here you go!)

(no subject)

[road_to_calvary]

 

There's nothing that I blame you for
You've done your duty, nothing more.

(no subject)

[nerves_of_ice]

[OOM: Košice, Slovakia, 1948.

"You're to return to Moscow. Immediately."

]

(no subject)

[ladyfirestarter]

There's a redheaded woman at the bar, halfway through a rum-and-Coke, spinning a quarter idly on the bartop.

Being nine years old again wasn't much fun, and probably wouldn't have been even if she'd retained any of her adult memories. She's got no idea what would have happened if she'd tried to call fire during that time; just as well, she thinks, that she didn't try.

Like the old saying goes: fucking Milliways.

(no subject)

[a1enzo]

Well, thank goodness all that's over. Now Enzo can focus his worry exclusively on studying for finals.

This is currently taking the form of doing pull-ups on a rafter, and reciting viral facts to himself on each descent.